


A Tale of Two Spies and a Sharpshooter

by MysteryHack



Category: Fallout 4
Genre: Eventual Smut, F/M, Friends to Lovers, Jealousy, M/M, Multi, Secrets, Slow Burn, eventual polyamory
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2016-05-21
Updated: 2016-05-23
Packaged: 2018-06-09 21:39:23
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence, No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 4
Words: 11,919
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/6924421
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/MysteryHack/pseuds/MysteryHack
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>“Now if you'll excuse me, sir.” She maneuvered Preston and herself around Deacon. Sol was enjoying the exasperation on his face. Even more so, she liked that MacCready was watching the exchange so intently.</p><p>“I got some intel about sex with legs and bullets over there, and I think you're going to want to hear it.” Deacon tried again, holding his hand out for Sol to take.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

The air was exponentially more humid in the post-war world, causing the streets of Goodneighbor to reek more of rot than usual, and the stench made Marisol choke slightly as she and her partner stepped out of the mayor's office. Mayor Hancock had sent word that it was urgent, and that the Railroad would be needed immediately. Much to Deacon's irritation, it was just a waste of time and shooting the shit, generally about things he already knew. However for Marisol, codename Charmer, it was a welcome distraction from the various assignments Desdemona threw at the expert members. 

Marisol stretched her arms over her head and looked over to Deacon, her quizzical face looking back at her in his sunglasses. “That wasn't too bad, huh Deeks? I mean except for the part with the mentats incident it was a good time.”

The senior agent nodded distractedly, “Yeah that Hancock, he's a riot.” 

“Is something up Deacon, you're never this...this.” Charmer finished waving her arms over her friend. 

“I know we weren't just here to see the good ol' mayor. You've been thinking about tracking down that mercenary again haven't you, Sol?” Deacon leaned against the brick wall of the statehouse. 

Marisol scratched the back of her neck, there was never getting anything passed Deacon, that was for sure...he really was the ultimate spy. “I just need help tracking and killing this Courser. Valentine already did so much for me, and I don't want to ask him to go along with me on this one.” 

Deacon smirked, “What am I? Chopped Brahmin?”

The younger woman linked her arm through her partner's and began dragging him deeper into the little town. “You know I can't take you away from the Railroad for my personal stuff Deeks, look, I hear he's in the bar here. We go in, I'll meet with him and you keep an eye from the periphery. If he doesn't check out then I don't hire him and we can try to figure out another way to snag that teleportation chip, okay?” Her brown eyes pleading. 

Deacon would be damned if he'd ever admit it, but he just couldn't say no to a face like Sol's. The nickname Charmer was a well founded one, something he could attest to on numerous occasions. “Alright, but if he turns out to be a feral or a super mutant in disguise, you can't come crying to me.”

Marisol tightened her grip on Deacon's arm as they walked through the heavy metal door concealing the only bar in Goodneighbor. She stood still for a moment, allowing their eyes to adjust to the dimness inside, steeling herself to the possibility that this mercenary, this MacCready, may not be willing to throw himself at the most elite Institute technology in the Commonwealth. Luckily she came weighted down with as many caps as she could carry and more than a few practiced lines. 

She felt Deacon shift and un-thread her arm from his, “Time to go to work, Charmer. See you down there. Don't forget, what I said.” He felt a kiss on her cheek, and when she finally opened her eyes, Deacon had disappeared below.

With one last deep breath Marisol nodded to Ham, the ghoul-turned-bouncer and trudged down the concrete steps. She had only been to the Third Rail once before, when she first climbed out of that grave of a vault. It was here that she first met Deacon and Nick, after an altercation with Whitechapel Charlie. She smirked as she walked over to her old friend. 

“Heya Mr. Handy, can I get a glass of your best top-shelf bourbon?” Marisol leaned against the bar, invading the bartender's space. 

“I haven't seen you in quite a while, try not to piss me off this time and we'll be just fine.” The robot moved to grab for a tumbler underneath the bar. 

“Come on Charlie, I thought we settled all of this.” Marisol teased. 

“We're alright love. Thanks to that drifter you towed in with you last time. Where is your chap?” Charlie questioned setting down the bourbon, “On the house.” 

Marisol let her eyes scan the throng of patrons, searching for the familiar black tinged lenses. She spotted Deacon leaning inconspicuously against a wall near Magnolia. He turned his head towards her and nodded once before looking off to the side again. 

Marisol snorted once and slammed her drink. She felt the familiar warmth bloom in her stomach, giving her more courage to face the mercenary she had heard so much about. As she turned her attentions back to the counter she was seated at, Marisol felt an arm resting dangerously close to her own. 

“My bad,” she began, “I didn't see you there.” She apologized.

Bright blue eyes met her soft brown ones and a blonde eyebrow quirked at her. “Eh it happens. Nothing to apologize for, it's not like you spilled my drink.” The stranger answered waving Charlie over to top off his glass. “So you new in town?” 

Marisol felt her face heat slightly as she studied the man, “No, but I haven't been to Goodneighbor in a while, almost a year I think.” She allowed her eyes to wander his body. He was thin, with a hardened face and enough ammo strapped to him to blow a small room sky high, but something about him was kind and Marisol allowed the tension to leave her.

“Ah, well then welcome back.” The man nudged his glass against hers before standing and swaggering back into the V.I.P section of the bar. 

A hot breath tickled her left ear as Deacon reappeared, “You know that was MacCready, right? Like what you see...Charmer?” He teased ruffling her hair. 

Marisol laughed, turning to face her partner, “Now if I didn't know any better I'd say you were jealous, Deeks.” 

“I'm still betting he's a ghoul. You didn't see what he's hiding under that cap.” Deacon whispered. 

She shivered slightly as Deacon pulled away, taking his warmth with him. Well, now that she knew where MacCready was, and he seemed to be in a good mood, Marisol figured it was as good a time as any to buy herself another gun. Whether that hired gun just so happened to be easy on the eyes was absolutely none of Deacon's business. Nodding towards Charlie, Charmer stood and drifted over to the V.I.P section, growing more nervous as the red hues danced over her skin. 

That's when she heard a gruff voice taunting somewhere inside. “Can't say I'm surprised to find you in a dump like this, MacCready.” 

“I was wondering how long it would take your bloodhounds to track me down, Winlock. It's been almost three months. Don't tell me you're getting rusty,” She heard the mercenary snark back. 

Marisol couldn't help but continue down the small hallway. Wondering what it was that MacCready could have done to anger the co-leader of the Gunner army of the Commonwealth, and why Deacon had failed to mention this important point of intel.

“It ain't like that. I'm just here to deliver a message.” The man who Marisol assumed was Winlock answered. 

“In case you forgot, I left the Gunners for good.” MacCready snapped. 

Marisol clamped her hand over her mouth and quietly took a step back. So MacCready was a run away gunner? This didn't bode well for him at all. Marisol wondered absently why he would try to continue doing business in their territory. Either MacCready was suicidal or desperate, selfishly she hoped for the latter. 

After a few more words were exchanged, two sets of heavy boots shuffled passed her and back out into the main area. Taking a deep breath and reaching for the bourbon still in her blood, Marisol walked in to face MacCready for a second time. 

He was flushed, even under the red lights she could see his rage. The mercenary clamped his hands into fists as he saw her approach, “Look lady, if you're preaching about the Atom, or looking for a friend, you've got the wrong guy. If you need a hired gun...maybe then we can talk.” 

Well, so much for catching the man in a good mood. Marisol imagined just how many caps that altercation was going to end up costing her. Might as well try flirting, it wasn't like he was going to get any more pissed off. “I am definitely in need of your...services.” She winked for good measure and sat herself on the plush red couch. 

He balked at the entendre in her voice, eyes going wide for a second, but his bad mood stayed constant. “Now what about you? How do I know I won't end up with a bullet in my back?” His blue eyes scraped over Kellogg's clothes, taking in the various weapons strapped to her person.

“You don't. That's part of the risk, right?” Marisol crossed her legs. 

After what seemed like an eternity, his blue eyes lessened in intensity and she felt herself able to breathe again. “Can't argue with that.” 

After haggling, Marisol convinced MacCready to join in on her Courser hunt through the Commonwealth for less caps than she was expecting, he really must be desperate. As she heard him chat about Goodneighbor and Magnolia, Marisol resolved to keep as much about her mission and the Railroad on the down low as possible. Which is why when Deacon gestured for her to follow him Marisol turned to MacCready, “Why don't you relax and go grab a drink, on me.” 

MacCready quirked that damned eyebrow but shrugged, “You're the boss.” 

“I just have some loose ends to tie up here before we can leave town.” She dropped a couple of caps into his waiting hand. 

When she was sure her new employee was distracted by the activity around him, the Railroad agent made her way up the steps and out into the fading day above ground. Her head whipped back and forth in a futile attempt to spot Deacon, had she misread him? 

“Ladies and gentleman! For the low low price of only two hundred caps you too could buy your very own professional killer!” Deacon announced to no one in particular, “Don't worry folks, he's definitely potty trained, and a total cutie. Am I right, SOL?” 

She rolled her eyes and turned into the alley Deacon was currently marching down. Sol had picked up on the bitter tone her partner had directed at her. She wondered absently if it was just the mercenary causing Deacon so much irritation. He stopped his march suddenly, causing her to stumble into his back. “What the hell is going on with you Deeks? You failed to mention he was running with the gunners. Information like that doesn't usually just slip your mind.” 

Deacon turned and took a step towards her, looking directly down into her face. “You wouldn't have listened to me anyway, and you know that Charmer. I thought it'd be best if you just figured that one out for yourself,” His tone softened, “I know you need to find that Courser. And I know nothing is going to get in the way of finding your son. Not even little old me.” 

“Well, at least you came with me, I can't say I was looking forward to finding MacCready on my own.” Marisol's palms were sweaty and her heart ached in her chest. Deacon wasn't going to like the next directive to leave her mouth, “I need you to head back to HQ now and let them know what's going on.” 

Deacon let out a little surprised gasp, no more than a puff of air. “You mean I'm not invited to this party? I really should stay on Charmer, you're gonna need someone to watch your back.” 

“I have MacCready, I'll be alright Deeks. Desdemona asked for a report as soon as we found someone to help do the job. I don't want him knowing anything that isn't absolutely necessary, it could jeopardize the entire organization. What if he's a synth hater? Or an Institute sympathizer? We can't take the risk.” 

Deacon took a step closer, taking Marisol's hands in his own, “I don't trust him not to stick a bullet in your brain and dump your body somewhere. Death Bunnies have to stick together. But, if you say you can handle it, and you keep a gun on you at all times, I'll head to the church tonight and let them know what's up.” 

“Thanks Deacon.” Marisol whispered leaning her head on his chest. The worn cotton of his T-shirt was comforting in a way she needed. It felt as though a gap had just opened between the two of them and it threatened to swallow everything they were whole. It wasn't often they separated, preferring to assist each other with recon and intel missions. Because of their partnership, Deacon had quickly become one of the only constants Sol had in her life since waking up 200 years in the future. Something akin to loss threatened to spill into her carefully calculated demeanor. 

Deacon was the first to break the silence between them, “Well, I'm off. It's probably better I get there before the sun is totally down for the night. We all know what kind of freaks come out on this side of town. Don't wanna end up becoming a Raider's plaything.” He dropped his arms and stepped back. 

Marisol nodded and released Deacon from her grasp with a sigh, “Tell everyone I'll be going after the Courser in the next few weeks. I'm going to take my new friend out and get a feel for him. Maybe we'll go visit Valentine in Diamond City, or help Preston with some Minutemen assignments.” 

“I'll be keeping an eye on you, don't do anything I wouldn't do.” Deacon ruffled her hair, and for once the small gesture managed to not irritate Marisol entirely. 

“That's not saying much, Deeks.” She lightly punched his arm and turned to collect MacCready from the bar below. She looked around once more to wish her partner a safe trip back to the Old North Church, but only the city watch greeted her. 

The atmosphere was much more lively than it had been when she stepped out, something Sol appreciated immensely. Magnolia danced more enthusiastically as she belted out her song “Goodneighbor”, Sol's personal favorite, into the microphone. Marisol found MacCready exactly where she had left him, seated at the bar gesticulating wildly to a fellow patron seated next to him. 

“I swear. That behemoth took one to the dome and BAM. Dead.” The mercenary insisted. 

The Railroad agent smirked as she sat herself at MacCready's other side. “Charlie, I'll have whatever he's having.” She waved a hand at her new partner. 

“It really happened. I swear.” MacCready assured, going to take a swig from the empty glass in his hand. “Oh that's not right.” He pouted. 

So much for heading out of town tonight, her hired gun was all but blasted and she was in no mood to do much of anything but slam down some drinks herself. She gratefully took the glass from the robot and accepted the stream of amber liquid that filled her cup. MacCready watched the alcohol pool in her glass and licked his lips.

“Uh, leave the bottle, Charlie.” Marisol ordered handing over more caps than she would have liked. 

“Ya know boss, you aren't so bad. First order out of your mouth? Go have a drink. Now here you are buying me rounds.” MacCready blabbered as Sol filled his glass.

“Call me Sol.” She smiled raising her glass to his. 

The night passed relatively uneventfully, with Marisol and MacCready managing to drink far more alcohol than anyone would have thought possible. Time was lost to the pair as they swapped tall tales and advice well into the night. 

“Alright, SOL,” MacCready emphasized after being chastised again for calling her boss, “You need to get a bunch of pencils taped together and throw some cloth over them. Best way to clean the inside of a barrel. Ever.” 

“I'll have to try that, but only if you promise to turn your watch in. Snipers are supposed to have their watch faces on the inside of their wrist. Otherwise you reflect sunlight off of it.” Marisol advised the former gunner. It was something Deacon had taught her on one of their more dangerous runs. That strange grief-like feeling bubbled up into her chest again, choking off the peace she had managed to find with MacCready. 

“Huh, that makes a lot of sense.” MacCready whispered in awe, more to himself than anyone else. 

“It's getting late MacCready, we should probably head to the Rexford for the night.” Marisol stood, leaning against her stool for support. 

The man nodded and clumsily dethroned himself from his own seat. Together, the two managed to stumble across town to the local inn. Once they were both handed room keys they made the daunting trek up the staircase together. 

“Woah, I got ya boss.” The sharpshooter laughed, taking Marisol's weight onto his side as they leaned against each other. 

“Thanks there...Mac.” Sol smirked as his face screwed up into a playful scowl. 

“Your chamber, my lady.” MacCready chuckled as he opened the door for her. Dust and Atom only knows what else greeted the pair. The room was dark and dank and reminded Sol of the Church catacombs. That raw ache surged in her gut again. 

“I can take it from here, thanks.” Marisol steadied herself against the doorjamb. “We'll move out at dawn, so get some sleep.” Her clipped tone returning.

“Alright boss.” MacCready replied, stumbling down the hall to his own room. 

Marisol leaned heavily against the closed door, surveying her quarters. Once she was satisfied that an Institute agent wasn't going to pop out from the shadows, Sol allowed her mind to wander. She liked MacCready, though she couldn't explain why. He was no Deacon, but he wasn't unpleasant either. Quick-witted and handsome, MacCready drew Sol to him in the strangest of ways. He was shifty eyed and obviously only out for himself, yet Sol trusted in him already.

Her heart throbbed as her thoughts skipped to her partner. She missed him immensely already, if Sol were prone to the dramatic, and she was after a few drinks, she would almost liken her separation from Deacon to severing an arm. She threw herself into a self-loathing heap on the queen bed, trying to push the two men from her mind. Marisol fell into a fitful sleep, her mind drifting between blue eyes, sun glasses, and the feel of cold metal drawing her into oblivion.


	2. Chapter 2

“So Diamond City, huh?” MacCready questioned as they approached the Fens. All camaraderie they had built up that first night in Goodneighbor had dissipated to a more clipped, business-like relationship. 

“Yep. I have to meet an old friend, I got the message from Hancock while I was in Goodneighbor.” Sol stepped around a rather large rotting mutant hound. Checking her pip boy briefly, she surmised they were less than twenty minutes from the 'Green Jewel of the Commonwealth.' “We should be there sooner rather than later,” Sol affirmed. 

She knew the sharpshooter was getting antsy for a decent place to rest. MacCready, she noticed has barely slept since leaving Goodneighbor. He was constantly alert, sharp eyes always searching in the darkness, for what Marisol could only guess. 

MacCready grunted in acknowledgment, pulling suddenly on Sol's arm. “What are you-” She stopped short, allowing herself to be tugged behind a building by the sniper. 

“Ahead. Raiders. I've got a pretty good vantage point from here, boss. Just say the word.” He whispered steadying his rifle against his shoulder. The small group of criminals wandered aimlessly back and forth on their guard post, looking for unsuspecting travelers. 

Marsiol shook her head, pressing her hand to his weapon, “No we'll just go around them. It's better to travel quietly and just save the ammo. Trust me, we're going to need it.” 

“Yeah, whatever.” MacCready acquiesced slinging his rifle over his back. Marisol took point, gesturing for the man to follow her through the back of an old cafe. She had taken this way numerous times on her supply runs through the city. The raider camp ahead had no more than ten denizens at one time, but it was better to do what she always did and keep a wide berth around the threat. 

Just as she was poking her head through the blown out window, she heard a resounding crash somewhere behind her. Startled, she raised her silenced 10mm pistol ready to punch a few holes into the intruder. 

MacCready pulled his cap low over his eyes, “Sorry boss. Tried to grab the Fancy Lad's up on the shelf, but the floor's rotted through.” He gestured to the shelf collapsing into the floorboards beneath his feet. 

Sol snorted and lowered her weapon, resuming her search for enemies outside. When she was sure there was no one around, she took off in a sprint to cover across the street. MacCready followed suit, keeping a steady pace behind her. 

“What do we have here?” A voice called from somewhere above them. They'd been spotted. Bullets pinged off of the car frame in front of them. The Raider Psycho emptied what seemed like bolt after bolt into their makeshift shield.

“You picked the wrong day to piss me off, pal.” MacCready shouted back sweeping the area through his scope, “He's up there boss, right in the window of that building. What an idiot, he has no cover whatsoever.” 

“Time to see what you can do MacCready.” She whispered laying down a cover fire. They could have easily slipped down the corridor to their right, but Marisol was interested in seeing just how good of a shot MacCready really was. She had heard stories about his ungodly accurate head-shots for months now.

Without needing to be told, the mercenary lined up his shot through his scope. With one long slow breath out, MacCready managed to fire off two steady shots into the raider's skull. Sol watched as the threat was eliminated in a watery red spray. 

“Impressed yet?” The sniper smirked, reloading his rifle. 

“Actually I am. But we need to get out of here... Remind me to buy you a drink later.” Sol smiled, pulling him to his feet and down the small passageway.

Diamond City was just as she had left it, all green twisted metal and makeshift shelters constructed in the old baseball stands. She nodded at the security guards as she walked down into the market at the center of the town. MacCready followed loyally as Marisol traded odds and ends at Diamond City Supply, and ate dutifully at the noodle stand. The summer heat beat down on them with a humid cloud smothering everything outside. Wordlessly, Marisol handed the sniper a Nuka Cola. That blonde eyebrow raised at her gesture, but he accepted the cool drink without a fuss. 

They sat side by side for sometime, enjoying the shade they had found under one of the canopies of the stands. Marisol felt fresh anxiety roiling in her gut, her thoughts landing on the Railroad and the mission she and MacCready had yet to complete. With Deacon's help she was that much closer to holding her son again, something she never thought possible after waking up in this new world. After chasing dead ends for eight months and numerous sleepless nights researching, it seemed almost unbelievable, she owed not only Deacon, but almost every other friend she'd made in the wastes thus far. 

 

“So now that we've done some sightseeing, I guess it's time for business.” MacCready spoke, pulling her from her thoughts.

“Yeah, Nick's probably wondering why I haven't shown up yet.” Marisol agreed, turning to follow the familiar path to the private eye's office. She looked back, watching her companion take in the gaudy red neon sign in front of them. 

“Nick? As in Nick Valentine? I've heard of him before. Detective, right? He really needs to work on his advertising.” MacCready waved a hand to the giant heart. 

“Says the mercenary spending his days in the V.I.P section of one of the seediest bars in the Commonwealth,” Sol smirked, the overstated roll of blue eyes in her direction telling her she had won that contest.

 

Inside the Valentine Detective Agency, the air pushed languidly around with the help of three overworked fans. “Nick?” Sol called out into the empty office. 

“Hey, doll. How ya been?” Nick's voice echoed from the small bedroom connected to the main room. 

MacCready hung by the door as his boss ventured in further. Sol found Nick elbow deep in paperwork at the desk next to his bed. These, Sol knew, were the open ended cases Nick had stashed away from his current jobs. As they were of a more personal nature, the old synth thought it best to hide them from prying eyes, including those of his trusted secretary, Ellie.

To her credit however, Nick had shown a few to Sol once before their adventure into the Glowing Sea. It felt as though it were ages ago, when the bright blue of her vault suit still clung proudly to her body and the raw stabs of loneliness still caused her heart to ache for Nate and the pre-war world. 

“Hey Nicky. I've been good. What are you solving today?” Sol asked seating herself on the unused bed. 

“Just going through some of Old Nick's cases. I wanted to ask you for your help once you get this Courser business squared away.” Nick absentmindedly flipped through the yellowed folder. 

“You just say the word. If you're looking for someone, I can have Deacon put feelers out-” Sol began. She stopped when Nick held the skeletal hand up at her. 

“This one's straight out of the archives,” Sol waited for the old synth to continue his story, “Once upon a time in the land of Boston, there lived a king of organized crime. Eddie Winter. He was a bad man who did a lot of bad things. Hurt a lot of innocent people, but he knew the end was coming, so he sealed himself inside a personal shelter...located underneath the sub shop he used as a headquarters.” Nick turned his yellow eyes on her. 

Sol smirked as she watched MacCready come forward to hear the rest of the story, “An evil king in a sub shop? Does a meatball monster show up at some point?” She teased Nick. The mercenary snickered as he leaned against the doorway amused with the whole exchange.

Nick chuckled lightly at the ribbing, deciding to go along with Sol's joke, “From what I've heard, the Pastrami golem is the one you really have to watch for...” His tone turned chastising as his eyes flickered over the intruder against the doorjamb, “Anyway if you're done being a wise-ass,” his attention settled back on the dark haired woman, “The story gets even more twisted. The arrogant bastard wanted to cheat death. Live forever...So he could come out of that shelter someday, into this brave new world. Sound familiar?” 

Sol scratched the back of her neck, eyes darting to her new companion. Wide blue eyes putting together the pieces as Nick threw them out into the room. Her cryo-sleep was a touchy subject, and one truth Sol tried to avoid telling as much as possible, but the cat was out of the bag so to speak. She could feel a lengthy conversation with the mercenary coming sooner rather than later. 

Nick either remained oblivious to this fact, or he thought it imperative for her traveling companion to know as he continued without so much as a pause, “Only Eddie didn't want to be a frozen banana,” he smiled kindly, taking one of Sol's hands into his, “No cryo sleep for him. No, he invested his money in some sick, crazy radiation experiment...”

The sniper's voice was incredulous, “You don't mean to tell us he used that radiation to...” 

“That's right,” Nick answered, irritation painting it's way across his face. He was more than a little uncomfortable with a newcomer hearing his story, “Eddie Winter went and turned himself into a ghoul. Two hundred years before it was fashionable. Hell, he was probably the first one. And I'm convinced he's still locked inside that shelter. Safe and sound. Ready to come out, and begin his evil reign all over again.” 

Nick's story had caused both Marisol and MacCready to gasp in surprise. It sounded ludicrous, but it made sense to Marisol now why this trip to Diamond City was marked urgent in the notes she had made in her pip boy. Nick squeezed her hand gently in his and turned his pleading gaze on her, “I'm gonna find him and kill him, so that never happens. You in?”

MacCready was the first to break the tension in the room, “I don't know about this boss. Seems like some kind of vendetta to me. I thought you had a job that was so important you hired me for it, do you really want to waste your time on this?”

“I've always got time for my friends, MacCready. Why don't you take a walk so I can finish talking to Nick?” Marisol turned her icy stare on to the mercenary. 

He shrugged and walked away, she heard him muttering something about mutiny under his breath as the door slammed shut behind him. She was going to have to talk to the man about manners as soon as she got a chance to, with MacCready gone Nick loosened considerably. 

His tone softened and the look in his eyes filled with the kind of longing she had seen in her own after losing Nate. “I've got memories. Of a...of a girl. My girl. They're not really my memories, I know that. They're Nick's,” The mention of the human man Nick was modeled after made both the synth and the Railroad agent solemn, “But the girl...she was real.” 

Marisol could practically feel the pain leaking out of the synth. She was surprised he had never brought it up before, choosing instead to carry this around in his heart for so long after he had done what he could to soften hers. “She was beautiful, and innocent...and Winter killed her. Now he's got to pay the price.” Nick whispered.

“Alright Nicky, as soon as I get this Courser chip, I'll help you get the bad guy. I swear it.” Sol pulled her friend into a hug. 

The two chatted for a while more, about what it was they would need for the eventual comeuppance of Eddie Winter and anyone who stood in their way. She was instructed by Nick to be on the lookout for old holotapes that would have been stashed in the Police Departments around the Commonwealth by the pre-war detectives working Eddie Winter's case. 

“I'll start looking as soon as I leave Diamond City. I'll be heading for the C.I.T ruins soon, and I'm sure Preston is going to have me running all over the Commonwealth in the meantime.” Sol shifted on the bed. The anticipation of finally moving on with her search for Shawn taking its toll on her usually easy going composure. 

“You sure you want to meet up with Garvey before heading off to the ruins? Everyone under the sun understands how badly you want to find your kid, doll. He told me to pass on this supply list, but if you'd rather head off, I'll tell the Minuteman in town here that you haven't been by yet.” Nick winked conspiratorially. 

“Nah, Nicky. It's alright. I know the work I do with the Minutemen is important. It seems ever since I popped out of that hole in the ground everyone in the world needs me, and I have to say it's made this whole…transition to this life so much easier. You'd think it'd be overwhelming, but it's nice to be doing something with my life other than drinking it away. I'll never be able to repay you and Deacon for pulling me out of the gutter, Nicky,” She played with his synthetic hand, “Never.”

The old detective smiled and squeezed her tiny fingers in his own, “It was our pleasure, doll. You'd better get going though, I'm sure that new fella of yours is up to no good somewhere here in town.” 

Marisol rolled her eyes at the thought of the mercenary, “Oh right. Sorry about him.” 

Nick took his hands away and stood, crossing his arms behind his back, “I'm surprised you've hired a mercenary...actually I'm probably more surprised that Deacon hasn't stabbed him in the back from the shadows, he takes your safety into heavy consideration.” 

Marisol chuckled at the thought of Deacon luring MacCready down a dark street at night, possibly dressed as a woman, “A mercenary and a spy, you think they'd get along.” 

“Just watch your back out there, kid. I wouldn't trust him for a minute. You know if you get into trouble I'll be here.” Nick moved to hug Marisol as she readied herself to leave the office. 

“I know you will be. Thanks Nicky,” Sol blew a kiss over her shoulder before the door shut behind her.


	3. Chapter 3

Sol shifted the pack on her back and began walking toward The Dugout Inn. The Bobrov brothers were known for having the best alcohol this side of the river. Sol figured if MacCready was going to be anywhere, the smart bet was definitely some place with a bar.'

As she wandered closer to the Inn, Sol got the feeling that she was being followed. Her heart thumped wildly in her chest unfortunately, she didn't have much practice taking on enemies alone. Usually, it was Deacon spotting the assailant and neutralizing them before they could fire a round off. Charmer the Railroad agent was still relatively green in hand to hand combat. 

To be sure Diamond City security wouldn't interfere with whatever may happen, Marisol headed for the abandoned edge of the stands, above her Kellogg's house stood vacant, haunting. Worst case, she planned to barricade herself in until she could think of a better plan. She finally stopped walking, tensely leaning on a railing for the ramp. She kept her back to whoever was approaching and instead grabbed for the small pocket knife Preston had given her when she was last at Sanctuary. 

“Chooo. Chooo,” a familiar voice whispered into the smog surrounding the Fens.

At that, Marisol felt her mouth tug into a smile, the adrenaline coursing through her veins causing her to laugh harder than she should have. “Didn't I just see you last night, Deacon?”

“Awh man, you totally caught me.” Deacon chuckled putting a hand on her shoulder. 

“I'm supposed to leave for Sanctuary today, you're distracting me from my assignment.” Marisol chided. Although she would have to admit it was a relief to see Deacon again so soon. 

“Oh, you mean your game of 'find the mercenary'? Yeah, he's at the Inn. You were right,” Deacon smirked, “Oh oh. Go on and ask me how I know!” He jumped like a little kid.

“How do you know, Deeks?” Sol asked crossing her arms. 

“I just talked to him, turns out he's already sick of his 'hot new boss', I'm not sure what you did to him, but boy that kid is mad. He mentioned something about being an errand boy for a pile of junk, know anything about that?” Deacon waggled his eyebrows. 

“Yes, I do. I agreed to keep an eye out for holotapes for Nick, and to head to Sanctuary after scavving around for supplies. He thinks it's a waste of time.” Sol pouted slightly, things were not going so well between her and her new partner. She desperately wished for Deacon's return to her side. 

“Well, it seemed like you guys were having fun after a couple of drinks, maybe just hook up like, a radaway bag filled with booze to his arm? Oh! Des wanted me to give you a list of equipment. Tom's gonna need you to bring it once you're ready to head back to H.Q….totally the only reason I'm here.”   
Deacon produced a small wrinkled paper from his Diamond City security uniform, “So uh, just hit a store on your way to the church.” 

Marisol took it out of Deacon's hands, ignoring the way his fingers brushed over her own. Desdemona's neat script wrote out several state of the art, and hard to come by circuitry boards. She'd have to track down the Brotherhood of Steel or take out a few Gunner camps to get this type of equipment. “Deacon, how the hell am I supposed to find any of this stuff?” 

He shrugged, “I'm just delivering what Des wanted. I'm supposed to head back to base now. You'd better head for Sanctuary as soon as you can. I heard Tinker Tom and I think P.A.M say something about a radstorm blowing through tonight.” 

“I'll see how quickly I can mobilize MacCready, thanks for coming by Deeks. Now stick to your end of town. I don't need a babysitter.” Marisol put the paper into her own pocket. 

“I know you don't, Sol. But you're my excuse for getting out of paperwork.” Deacon whined putting his head on her shoulder. 

Marisol pressed a small kiss to the side of Deacon's head, “You need to go back to H.Q. You're one of their best agents. They need you on with them, not following me and MacCready all over the Commonwealth. I'll see you as soon as I get the Courser chip...and gather supplies for Sanctuary...and collect holotapes for Nick.”

Deacon let out a loud sigh, “Curse you and your giant bleeding heart, right. Deacon out.” He put both of his hands up at Marisol's glare and backed slowly into the market place.

Marisol groaned as she smelled battery acid on the wind, it was probably for the best that she and MacCready head north to out run the incoming storm blowing up from the Glowing Sea. The Dugout Inn was as empty as Sol had expected it to be, most people opting to head in to their homes when the sickly greenish clouds tainted the distant horizon. MacCready sat alone at the bar smoking a cigarette, a can of purified water in front of him. Marisol walked over and sat next to MacCready, noticing his body tense slightly. 

“I'm sorry about kicking you out back there.” Sol spoke, the words hanging thick between them. 

“Yeah well, you pay me enough caps. I shouldn't have questioned you I guess. A job's a job,” MacCready shrugged, “so much the better if it lasts longer than anticipated.”

“I promise to give you half of anything valuable I find up until we hit the C.I.T ruins.” Marisol offered, stealing a swig from MacCready's water. 

That little promise seemed to brighten his mood, and he offered Marisol a genuine smile for the first time since the Pastrami golem made it's way into Nick's story, “Just don't be trying to make me split any junk. I only deal in premium.” The idea that MacCready would only accept top of the line anything to trade for caps was so absurd it made the pair laugh. 

Vadim Bobrov, hearing laughter in his bar emerged from the back room, going to replace his now absent brother as the bartender. “Oh man, I love this place. Vadim is such a character.” MacCready whispered to Sol.

“MacCready! Is good to see you, tovarisch. How is Lucy? She as beautiful as I remember?” The large man offered a toothy smile from behind the bar.   
MacCready felt his eyes water and pulled his cap down quickly in an unsuccessful attempt to cover them, “No...she didn't make it Vadim.” 

Vadim sensed it was a subject MacCready didn't feel like discussing in front of the woman seated next to him, “I'm sorry, mouth tends to be faster than brain. Tell you what, I give you drink on the house...for old times.” Carefully, Vadim set down three bottles of beer on the counter. 

“Thanks. You were always a real stand-up kind of guy, Vadim,” He turned to face Sol, his eyes still shining, “Let's drink.” MacCready whispered.

The look on his face, the slump in his shoulders, it fit the mercenary better than his snarky attitude, Sol realized studying him over her beer bottle. He'd lost someone too, someone he'd loved. It made him more human to her then, MacCready wasn't all booze and bullets as Deacon and Nick had assumed. 

She set down her drained bottle and gently elbowed the man, “Time to go Mac, we have to do some scavenging before we head to my settlement.” 

“Yeah, let's get out of here,” MacCready set his beer down as well, “See you later Vadim!” MacCready called as they exited the bar.

 

They traveled in silence as they had before, except MacCready was quicker on warning Sol about the bloatflies or bloodbugs that littered the road leading them farther north. “Your settlement, huh?” He asked as bloatfly guts rained down over them.

“Yeah, Sanctuary is the biggest settlement the Minutemen have control over right now,” Marisol continued combing through the junk pile in the middle of their path, “Aluminum...aluminum...Ah here we go!” She announced triumphantly throwing three crushed cans into her pack. 

“Wait, don't tell me you're with the Minutemen.” MacCready's face was a mask of disbelief, “Those idiots would give shelter to raiders if they could.” He continued marching like a sentinel back and forth across the road.

“Well I happen to be the new General of those idiots,” Marisol laughed, “Oh we definitely give something to raiders. Don't you worry.”

MacCready fell out of step and managed to trip over his own foot in incredulity, “Wait, you're the General of the Minutemen?”

Sol felt her face go hot, “Well, I mean kind of. It's not a position I was vying for, trust me,” she threw a few more items into her pack, “that should do it.”

“Yeah, and not a minute too soon. That storm is really catching up to us.” MacCready looked through his scope at the encroaching green clouds.

The houses and large lookout bridges of Sanctuary stuck out of the ever growing smog covering the Commonwealth. Behind them, green lightning zapped its way across the darkening sky. Two people walking across the large wooden bridge raised their laser muskets and pointed the directly at their general and her mercenary. 

Marisol let out a loud whistle mimicking what MacCready could only identify as a bird. The two guards lowered their weapons and let out a long whoop in response. The large gate closing off the settlement stood open, waiting for their entrance. 

The first thing MacCready noticed about the entirety of Sanctuary was that the people were far too clean. As he followed his boss down the twisting little road further in to the encampment, he took in everything. Other than the slightly dusty appearance of some of the townies, no one had that distinctive wastelander grime that most people he came across were caked in, himself included. 

From what he could see, half of the small neighborhood had power, with large strings of lights hanging between the houses, spanning from the cul-de-sac to the first two houses just outside of the circle. Sol turned right, into the yellow house of the two previously mentioned. 

Inside, it looked almost as though it were untouched by the ravages of war and time. Old world furniture sat arranged in a way that MacCready could only describe as being taken directly out of one of the thousands of burned magazines he had come across in his life. 

Sol continued walking down the hallway and stopped short at the room on the left. Peeping his head in over Marisol's shoulder, MacCready could see nothing but a bed at one end, and a large blue Minuteman flag nailed to the wall above it. It was cozy and domestic, and for some reason it made MacCready homesick for a place he's never even had. 

His boss sighed and muttered something about 'That goddamn Garvey never taking a day off,' before turning and running directly into him. Her body was absolutely flush against his own before he even had enough time to react. The mercenary could feel every shift of every muscle as she tensed against his chest.

He'd be lying if he said the contact was exactly unwanted, it had been quite a while since he had even been this close to a woman. He stayed frozen, unable to so much as breathe until he felt her tiny hand push against his ribs and the warmth of the little body in front of him retreated as suddenly as it had appeared. 

“Jesus, Mac. I'm surprised I couldn't smell you standing this close to me,” Marisol's face screwed up. 

“Hey, you try living in Goodneighbor indefinitely and we'll see how you smell,” MacCready snarled, pulling his cap lower over his forehead in embarrassment. 

“We should probably get you a shower at some point before we leave,” Marisol patted his arm absently before leading him back out the door, “We should actually probably go home for now and find Preston after this storm blows through.” Sol threw back to him as a crash of thunder echoed overhead. 

MacCready nodded, listening to the ticking on Sol's pipboy as it tracked the rads beginning to saturate the community. Quickly, she grabbed his arm to right his course out of the house. Apparently they weren't going back the way they came, but across the street into the blue house. The green smog wafted through the streets and stopped just short of the door, which Marisol slammed shut quickly.

“Well, here it is,” Sol gestured around the living area, “home sweet home.”   
The sniper analyzed the room, it was grungy, in a lived in sort of way, boarded and patched to the best of its occupant's ability. Rugs and various pieces of furniture again made MacCready feel as though he were transported back in time.

Marisol looked so at ease, walking around lighting candles and setting various cooking supplies onto the island counter. He could almost imagine Sol living in a house just like this one, sometime before the war...almost. 

“When's the last time you had something cooked in a real kitchen to eat, MacCready?” Sol asked conversationally. 

He had to think about it for a minute honestly, it might have been before his arrival in Goodneighbor, “Um?” He answered.

“Well don't worry, Codsworth should be here any second to help me make some deathclaw something or another, he's been trying to teach me how to cook for almost two hundred years.” Sol laughed. 

MacCready looked his boss over as she busied herself preparing the kitchen for whoever this Codsworth was, “You're looking great for two hundred then boss.” 

she stopped what she was doing, her eyes darting to his, “What was that?”

MacCready just laughed but said nothing, assuming she was just shocked that he had made a play at her. Considering the two of them were going to be playing house at least until the storm outside stopped, he figured it was a good way to get Sol to relax. She really wasn't as bad as he had first judged her to be.

A knock on the door and an enthusiastic, “Oh mum! So good to see you've returned in one piece!” Rang through the front room. 

MacCready had never seen a functioning Mr. Handy, the General Atomics service robot, up close before. It took him aback and he sat there dumbfounded. 

“Hey Codsworth, I hope you've been staying out of trouble,” Sol winked, moving aside for the robot. 

“Oh most certainly, Miss Marisol. How was the supply run? I see that we've a guest.” Codsworth began cutting the steak.

“His name's MacCready, from Goodneighbor. Hancock sent his recommendations, apparently he's a man that can get a job done.” Sol cracked opened two Nuka Colas and slid the mercenary one across the table to him. 

“Wonderful Mum! Is he going to help you find master Shawn?” Codsworth asked, using his torch to sear the meat as Sol chopped tatos. 

MacCready didn't miss the strangled noise that clawed its way out of Marisol's throat at the mention of Shawn. That got the sniper's attention. He had never heard of a Shawn, and he hadn't even thought to ask just why his boss was looking to track down an Institute synth. 

Uncharacteristically rattled, Sol tried quickly to change the subject, “No, Codsworth, he's just along to help me get some synth parts...” The tato slicing knife hit the surface with a resounding 'thunk', “Ow man, I cut my thumb. I'd better go clean this off. MacCready, you should help Codsworth,” she called hurriedly running down the dark hallway. 

He narrowed his eyes at the woman, but stood obediently, pushing away from the table he made room for himself next to the Mr. Handy. The room was silent, in an uncomfortable sort of way, with the lightning crackling outside and the robot's whirring fans, MacCready felt like he were trapped, and he couldn't explain why. So he did the one thing he had always been good at, he opened his mouth. 

“So uh, bolts,” he addressed Codsworth, “How long have you known Sol?” 

The robot took the tatos he had chopped and threw them onto the tray with the deathclaw slab, “Well sir, I believe it's been about two hundred and two years since I first came into miss's employ.” Codsworth stated proudly. 

 

“Two hundred years, huh? She's that bad to work with?” MacCready elbowed Codsworth, “Hopefully my job won't feel like it's lasted that long. 

Two hundred years. That robot had a funny sense of humor, the mercenary had to admit. 

“Well you see sir, I'm not...” Codsworth began.

“Would you look at that? Codsworth! You finished dinner, who's ready to eat?” Marisol asked as she grabbed the plates set out by her companions. 

 

Dinner was actually...nice. For the first time in a long time, MacCready felt well-fed and full. He knew he shouldn't let his guard down, get slow and lazy, but the radstorm had them trapped, and Sanctuary was so well protected he couldn't see anything getting through their defenses any time soon. The old robot had played some sort of old-world trivia game with the two of them, and he actually guessed more right than Sol had. 

“Looks like I'm the expert here, boss.” He had gloated. 

A teasing smile, a little smug maybe if he squinted, played on her lips, “You got me Mac, looks like you win the extra tato.” 

The victory tato would have been sweeter if it didn't seem like there was a private joke he just wasn't in on. As the conversation died down, Codsworth excused himself from the impromptu dinner party, explaining that the crops needed harvesting and the Longs were most certainly holed up inside. 

“Well that was fun. I'm surprised Codsworth was so chatty. Usually he's pretty wary of strangers.” Sol closed the door after the Mr. Handy. 

 

“He's alright, for a bucket of bolts.” MacCready smirked.

Together, the two of them managed to clean the horrendous mess in the kitchen in record time. MacCready was feeling...dare he say it...relaxed. Things tonight were much easier than he'd thought they would be. It was almost as if Sol had changed completely once they reached the gates of her settlement. She seemed much less distant than she had been earlier, and Her too-white smile shone through more than once. It may have been storming outside, but things were perfectly calm within the old shack. 

“So what do you townies do to pass the time?” MacCready asked as he looked out the window. 

“Oh you know, the usual. We mostly just sit around and play Blast Radius” She winked at him from the couch, “But really, we all work really hard to keep everything moving smoothly here. Once every few weeks we have a neighborhood-wide dinner. You'd be surprised who shows up. Even Hancock wanders over once in a while.” 

MacCready snorted as he tried to imagine the ghoul-mayor seated around a table giving thanks with a bunch of settlers. But, somewhere deep down, the idea of maybe retiring here once Duncan was cured was incredibly tempting. 

He imagined his son being free to roam the streets, maybe playing with Sol and Codsworth while he put his farming knowledge to good use. He shook his head to lock that idea away again, it was unrealistic and he knew it.

“It's a nice set up you have here for sure.” MacCready acknowledged, his eyes beginning to slide shut as his legs brought themselves onto the couch of their own accord. 

“Hey now, Mac. The night's not over yet. The rads are just about gone and I still need to find Preston… And you still need a shower, so don't go falling asleep on me just yet.” Sol poked his shoulder.


	4. Chapter 4

Twenty minutes and a few Fancy Lads later, MacCready found himself awake and following Sol down the street to the large wooden hut in the middle of town. Inside, a radio played loudly through several speakers wired haphazardly around the room. If the town seemed dead when he arrived, MacCready would never think such a thing now. There were around twenty people laughing and dancing to whatever Travis had thrown on the air. 

Codsworth tended the bar, and waved his tendrils at them excitedly. Marisol dragged him over, and ordered two bottles of Gwinnette Stout for them. It was surprisingly cool against his lips, and helped ease his anxiety about being in a crowded room. Once he pinpointed the exits he allowed himself to relax fully and enjoy the atmosphere. 

“To answer your question, we townies also find ourselves here quite a bit.” Marisol took a swig of her beer. 

“Aren't you just wild?” MacCready teased. The door opened and he instantly moved for the small knife he had concealed in his pocket. 

“Woah Mac, it's just Preston.” Marisol explained grabbing his arm. He lowered his knife but stayed ready.

“General,” the man smiled as he crossed the room to the bar, “It's good to see you. The supplies you grabbed on your way here are going to help with getting lights up on the other end of town.” 

General. MacCready watched the woman at his side as she returned Preston's greeting. He just couldn't see her as a general. She was too relaxed for such a rigid title. 

“I'm going to be heading south in a few days, are there any farms that need checking up on?” Marisol asked. 

Preston stepped forward, glancing at MacCready for a moment before turning his attention back on his General, “Well you see Sol...” the two started talking about all kinds of plans MacCready tuned out.

MacCready turned back to the bar, bored by the business talk between the two Minutemen, “Hey Codsworth,” He called to his new friend, “You happen to know how to make a Dirty Warhead?” 

The Mr. Handy whirred for a few moments checking his data banks, “No sir, I don't believe I know what's in that.”

The mercenary settled in on his stool, “Start with some Nuka Cola Quantum, add some vodka, whiskey, and gin. Shake it and finish with a splash of Radscorpion venom.”

If Codsworth were human, MacCready could have sworn his jaw would have hit the floor.

“That seems a bit excessive sir,” Codsworth grabbed for a glass and a few bottles of alcohol, “However, I was programmed to make a mean British Bulldog.”

MacCready searched the room for Sol and Preston, who had moved to a table in the center of the room. Whatever. He could make his own fun. “Hit me.” MacCready nodded to the robot.

 

By the time the man sidled up to occupy the stool on his right, MacCready had lost count of how many Bulldogs he had consumed. The alcohol combined with the music and general upbeat mood of the shack made MacCready something of an open book tonight, which is why when this stranger asked his name and why he was there, the mercenary couldn't help but smile and introduce himself like a normal human. 

“Nice to meet you Mac. I'm Bullseye,” The man took a swig off his own drink, “What brings you to Sanctuary?”

“If you can believe it, that woman riiight there,” Mac pointed out Sol, who was currently dancing with Preston, “brought me here.” 

Bullseye whistled and lowered his sunglasses, catching MacCready's blue eyes with his own, “She's quite a doll, huh?” 

Something about Bullseye was so familiar to Mac, he could almost place it, but not quite...like a word stuck on the tip of his tongue. He was attractive in a classic way, all blue eyes and black pompadour, and MacCready reddened at the man's attention.

“Yeah, she's alright.” MacCready sipped on the Bulldog that appeared out of nowhere.

“I've never seen you around town before,” Bullseye pressed, “what's your business?”

“I kill stuff.” MacCready answered with a wave of his hand. The alcohol combined with the man's steady stare had made him tongue tied.

“Oh? Like, what? Bloatflies and Super mutants?” Bullseye pressed as he watched MacCready's eyes carefully.

“Yeah exactly. That and..people. Mercenary,” MacCready admitted gesturing to his shell-covered thigh holster. 

Deacon licked his lips slightly at the sight, “Right. Merc,” his eyes lingered on MacCready's thigh again before settling on his partner, “So, Sol must be in some trouble if she's picked up a professional killer.”

“Yeah. As far as I can tell she needs help hunting a Courser…somehow this is gonna help her find some guy named...Shawn,” Deacon's eyebrows raised at the mention of Shawn, “Oh the robot let it slip earlier. I know she's hiding something. I'm not stupid.” MacCready watched over the rim of his glass as Preston twirled Sol and caught her in his arms. His chest squeezed involuntarily at the scene. Well that was new, and unwanted. 

“A guy named Shawn, huh?” Deacon smirked at MacCready. 

“Yeah, woman as beautiful as her, wedding band around her neck, I know she has to have a husband.” MacCready's face looked sour as he turned his attention back to Bullseye.

“Well, in that case, I've been caught. Bullseye's my code name, but my real name is Shawn. I'm Sol's husband.” Deacon watched as MacCready's eyes widened, before a skeptical look settled in. Deacon had to admit, the mercenary was pretty damned adorable.

“Alright then, Shades...sorry Shawn, ten caps says she slaps you if you kiss her.” MacCready wiggled his eyebrows at 'Shawn'.

“Ten caps and a kiss says she doesn't, handsome.” Deacon ran his fingers through his coiffed hair before walking towards Preston and Sol, he threw a wink at the mercenary, who was the most delicious color of red. 

Preston and Marisol were swaying to a number by Billie Holiday when the glint off of those ever-familiar sunglasses gave Deacon away. He was sashaying his way through the crowd to the pair of Minutemen. “What the hell is he doing here?” Preston shifted his dance partner so she had a better view of the Rail Road agent.

“Oh damn it Deacon. He should be at headquarters,” She continued to sway in a circle with Preston.

Sol felt the tap of Deacon's finger on her shoulder before it even reached her. “Excuse me, General. Is this next dance already taken?” 

“It is,” She hooked Preston's hand back around her hip, decidedly attempting to cover her smirk, “Now if you'll excuse me, sir.” She maneuvered Preston and herself around Deacon. Sol was enjoying the exasperation on his face. Even more so, she liked that MacCready was watching the exchange so intently. 

“I got some intel about sex with legs and bullets over there, and I think you're going to want to hear it.” Deacon tried again, holding his hand out for Sol to take. If he knew her well, and he did, she couldn't resist him much longer. She missed him and he was ready to exploit that to no end tonight. 

As expected, Sol huffed and looked apologetically up at Preston, “It sounds important.” 

Preston, clearly irritated with Deacon, took his hands from Sol and stepped backward towards the bar, “Alright Deacon, try not to cause any trouble while you're in my settlement. I find out you're hiding any synths here without telling me again and I will shoot you.” 

Deacon offered a placating smile, “Don't worry Colonel, you have my word. Now, why don't you go vet the greenhorn a bit while I spend some time with my girl.” He winked at Preston, knowing the Minuteman couldn't stay mad at him. 

Deacon may have annoyed Preston to no end, but they had similar goals for the Commonwealth, and shared a moral compass it seemed. Plainly speaking, the two were fast friends and had been since Deacon had carried Sol to the start up settlement almost a year ago. 

“Oh, your girl?” Sol purred as she laced her arms around Deacon's neck and stepped closer, “You sure you want to make such a bold claim on such little evidence?” 

“Babe, I deal in secrets, and this?” Deacon dipped her, making sure MacCready could see the entire act, he was on the edge of his stool. It excited Deacon to know MacCready was tracking their every movement, “This is no secret. Wanna help me mess with the new guy?”

“What do you have in store for poor Mac, Deeks?” Sol remained compliant under his hands as they swayed to the radio. Her heart was beating a mile a minute in her chest, and though she attempted to remain demure, her cheeks were flushed and her eyes were brighter than usual.

“Oh, just pretend to be my wife for the remainder of our partnership with Blamco Mac & Cheese, no biggie.” Deacon spun her again. His throat felt tight as he said the words, if only his partner had a clue as to how much he wished this proposal were real instead of just another of his schemes.

Marisol was actually startled as she looked up at Deacon, “What? What did you tell him. Deacon I swear...” she began.

“Or you could just kiss me. It's a new sign of friendship for Death Bunnies. Scout's honor.” He laughed, though inside he was as anxious as MacCready looked.

“Well, what's one kiss between two bunnies?” Sol leaned in with her eyes closed. Deacon, never one to show his nerves, dipped her again, surprising her with the feel of his lips on hers. 

It wasn't their first kiss by any means. They were two adults who, after a mission gone sideways, enjoyed drowning their sorrows. As one could imagine, drunken fumblings had happened and been quickly forgotten in the past. 

However, Deacon allowed whatever it was that he had been pushing down for months to swell up and engulf him whole. He knew there would be no lying or faking his way out of this. He was in love. Gently, he set Marisol back on her feet. Her hands were still twisted around him, shaking as she attempted to pull him closer. 

“So, on a scale of one to ten? That was a million.” Deacon smirked before untangling himself from her, “I just won a bet.” He kissed her tenderly on the head before making his way out the door of the shack.

Marisol stared after Deacon, she was absolutely dumbfounded. He had kissed her, sure there was something about MacCready and a bet but, Deacon kissed her, and then he disappeared. It seemed so Deacon and yet so out of character for the usually aloof spy. 

MacCready's raucous laughter pulled her back to the present. Currently, she was a statue on a dance floor and there was a mercenary taunting her Colonel. 

“Booooyyy scouuutt.” MacCready sang as he slapped at Preston's hat.

“Mac, Preston, is everything alright here?” Sol took MacCready's glass from him and sniffed, the smell made her eyes water. Just what she needed, a way to burn the tingle of Deacon's lips from her own. 

“Everything's fine General. MacCready was just telling me how much he liked Sanctuary,” Preston cleared his throat, “and how impressed he was that a troop of boy scouts could build something so fortified. I offered to let him play around in the armory tomorrow if his hangover doesn't kill him beforehand.” 

MacCready knew he had reached his limit more than a few drinks ago, but there was that unsettling feeling in his chest and he needed to drown it more than he needed anything. He was feeling restless after watching Bullseye-Shawn-whoever kiss his boss. He couldn't suss out the reason as to why that was, but boy were these Bulldog's helping. 

Preston, more importantly teasing Preston Garvey, gave the mercenary the rare opportunity to act like the snot nosed kid he had been at Little Lamplight. The Colonel was too good for the Commonwealth and MacCready hated him for it almost immediately. 

“Hey boossss. Where'd your husband go? I owe him ten caps...and a kiss!” MacCready announced as Sol took the stool next to him.

“Oh, that wasn't my husband Mac. That was Deacon, he's a good friend of mine.” Sol felt hot at the thought of the agent.

“Ohhhh. I thought it was Shawn. Your husband.” MacCready gestured to the wedding ring at her neck, “Boyyy is he gonna be mad about Deacon when he gets back.” A hiccup accented the 'n' at the end of Deacon's name.

Marisol tensed, ready to smack the mercenary for a litany of reasons, when Preston gripped her shoulder, “He didn't mean anything by it Marisol, he's drunk and heard Codsworth earlier. He's been pretty upset all night that his boss is married, so try to show the boy some mercy tonight. Although, usually I'd be all for you smacking a punk mercenary silly.” Preston tacked on as an after thought.

Sol breathed through her nose deeply before releasing it in a sigh. Preston was right, it wasn't MacCready's fault he knew next to nothing about the woman he was working for. It was however, hers. She smiled kindly at MacCready, “Shawn isn't my husband, Mac.” 

“Well that's the best news I've heard all day.” MacCready blabbered on for a while and Sol listened patiently, actually amused with her mercenary's drunken ramblings.

 

“You know, I think it's time for Mac and I to be heading home.” Sol informed Preston as she grabbed the collar of MacCready's duster. 

He had already challenged everyone in the recreation shack to a sharp shooting competition, and Sol decided it was better to remove him from the shack before someone accepted his taunts and all present were filled with bullet holes. 

The walk home thankfully, was short and MacCready was managing to stay on his feet better than Marisol had ever imagined. The moon hung low in the sky, and other than the whirring of the turrets and men on patrol, it was incredibly peaceful at the little settlement

“It's quiet…too quiet,” MacCready giggled, “Oh man. I've always wanted to say that.” He whispered as Sol wandered around the living room lighting lanterns.

Sol couldn't help but smile as she listened to Mac putter around her house, drunkenly exploring every room. She held her breath as she heard him open the door to Shawn's room.

“So you don't have a husband, and now, you don't have a baby.” MacCready was gripping the railing of Shawn's crib tightly, both hands white-knuckled. 

She had forgotten to lock that door. Sol leaned on the doorway, “I don't have a husband now and I...well I'm not sure if I have a baby anymore either.” 

MacCready kept his gaze on the mobile that had fallen into the crib, the original support rotten with age. “Shawn's your son. You have a son. Just like me.” 

“You have a son, Mac?” Sol moved to stand on the other side of the crib.

“Yeah. Yeah I do, his name is Duncan. And he has his mother's smile. Thank Atom or whatever else is out there.” MacCready opened his mouth and pointed at his own, worn teeth, “She had a really pretty smile, like you.” He rubbed at his eyes clumsily a small sob clawing its way out of him.

“Oh Mac,” Sol whispered reaching her hands out to his, “I'm sorry.” So, like her, MacCready had a child and a spouse who was no longer living. In a sad way, it helped her understand the sniper more.

“It's alright. I just...miss them both. Duncan's been in the Capital Wasteland, and I've been looking for jobs here...and he's...times are tough right now. It's why I'm back in the mercenary racket.” He allowed Marisol to lace her fingers with his. 

The moonlight filtered in through the broken window, bleaching everything around them with its soft white glow. They stood for a while, enjoying sharing their pain with someone who knew all too well what the other was feeling: guilt, loss, fear. It was heavy on both of their shoulders and it showed. 

“Well, it's getting late, Mac,” Sol squeezed his fingers gently before letting them drop back onto the rail, “We'd better get some sleep. I'll make up a bed for you.” And with that flimsy excuse, MacCready was alone in the room, his hands still warm where hers had been.

Surely he couldn't have been the only one who felt the enormity of what had just happened. Marisol was even more a kindred spirit than he had previously thought, and in a weird way it made him feel good. Something about misery and company, as well as the incalculable amount of alcohol consumed passed through his mind as he tried to understand just why he had told her anything at all.

He wandered down the dark hallway to find Sol tucking sheets into the couch for him, “It isn't much, but it's better than your sleeping bag. If you want I can set you up in the bunkhouse?” For some reason her chest hollowed at the thought of him down the road rather than just within her reach as he had been the last week.

“Nah, I'll be alright here. I'm sure I'm drunk enough that a spring in the back isn't going to stop me from passing out.” He wandered over to the end table and stripped off his holsters and belts, carefully he piled his effects on the small table.

“Okay, well. Everything's all set. I'm sure you can find my room alright if you need anything. Bathroom's the middle room, there's not much to it but the toilet I'm afraid,” Sol turned to retire to her room for the night.

“Thanks, and, goodnight boss.” MacCready collapsed onto the couch.

“Goodnight Mac.” Sol whispered as she made her way to her bed.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I promise things will start picking up from here on out! :)


End file.
